


Conviction

by vaughnicus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Affirmation through sex, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP with feelings, light dom/sub themes, slight angst, subtaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaughnicus/pseuds/vaughnicus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born from a kink meme prompt: </p>
<p>"Sub!Grantaire is denied orgasm until he accepts that he’s beautiful. He doesn't think he is, but his Dom Enjolras certainly does.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conviction

They are pressed against the door, tongues rubbing, evening light coming into the living room, and Grantaire is a vision of gently-lit skin and ruffled hair and quiet moans.

"You’re beautiful," Enjolras breathes, and he means it. Grantaire’s blue eyes and lopsided smile never fail to send his passionate heart cascading into an embrassing flutter.

But Grantaire only laughs, an edge to the sound, and Enjolras frowns. Grantaire moves to kiss him again, but Enjolras pulls back, returning the artist’s questioning gaze with a furrowed brow.

“What?”

“You  _know_ you’re beautiful, right, Grantaire?”

“Sure,” he laughs, “I’m a goddamn prince. C’mon.”

But Enjolras again steps out of his reach, frown deepening. “Grantaire.”

Grantaire brings his arms to his chest, one hand curling over his shoulder. “I mean, does it matter? Why are you-”

“Gran _taire_.” Enjolras lifts his chin, voice slipping into something more commanding. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” Grantaire answers. “I don’t think I’m beautiful. Obviously. But I’m f-”

Enjolras clears his throat and Grantaire halts his words. Enjolras is quiet for a moment, looking Grantaire up and down. And then he takes the other man by the hand and leads him to their bedroom, jaw set. They cross the threshold and he lets go, turning to sit on the bed. He crosses his legs and looks at Grantaire, who is standing in front of him with a befuddled look.

“Take off your clothes,” he demands.

Grantaire obeys, stripping off his sweatshirt and flannel. With each inch of skin exposed Enjolras’ gaze heats; grows hungrier. When he reaches for his belt, Enjolras begins talking, a steady stream of words.

“You have freckles in the best places. On your ears, behind your knees, on your hands. There’s a constellation on your shoulder that looks like Cassiopia. I don’t think you’ve noticed my preoccupation with it.”

Grantaire steps out of his trousers and Enjolras stands, humming appreciatively. “Your legs kill me.” He begins to circle Grantaire, who stands there motionless in his briefs. “You say I’m made of marble, but your thighs are the that look like they’ve been sculpted from stone. In fact, most of your muscles do.” He steps close behind Grantaire, pressing them together, and traces along the painter’s chest and biceps. “I love watching you dance. You’re so graceful and serene. You have such control over your body, Grantaire; I don’t know how you do it.”

A hand trails down over Grantaire’s stomach and past a hipbone, running teasingly close to his groin before slipping between his thighs further down.

“Do you remember when we tried intercrural in the shower after that gallery opening? It was amazing. You were so wrecked. You liked that, didn’t you? We’ll have to do it again sometime. Not tonight, though. Tonight,” and now he brings his hand up to rub Grantaire’s erection through his remaining garment, and Grantaire arches against him with a gasp.

“Tonight I’m going to fuck you.”

Grantaire was only half-hard before, bemused by the complimentary rambling, but now he’s straining against Enjolras’ hand, pushing against him as a moan falls from his lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m really not.”

“Get on the bed. On your back.”

Grantaire complies and Enjolras soon follows, detouring to their bedside table first. He gathers the needed materials and then crawls over Grantaire, dipping into a kiss.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Enjolras-”

“Shh. You’re beautiful.” And then he’s slicking a finger with lube and pressing it into him and he can’t reply. Enjolras works the digit in and out at a lazy pace. “Do you think I’m tasteless, Grantaire? Do you think I’m a liar?”

“What? N-no!”

He slips another finger in and noses at the bottom of Grantaire’s jaw, relishing the moan he pulls forth.

“Do you think I’m blind?”

“No…”

Another finger, and he’s really working them now, thrusting and twisting. “Have you  _ever_ known me to settle for less than what I want?”

“N-no –  _ah –_  Enjolras…”

“Then why on earth would you think I’d accept anything less than the very best in a partner?”

“I… don’t know.”

“Are you beautiful, Grantaire?”

A whine – of arousal or desperation or distress; perhaps all three. “I’m not.”

Enjolras growls, pulling out his fingers and pouring a generous amount of lube over his length, hitching Grantaire’s legs around his hips and guiding himself into the shuddering man beneath him.

“How do you define beauty, Grantaire?” He asks as he begins to thrust slowly.

“Wh – I… well, it’s – it’s subjective. But generally beauty is defined by –  _shit –_  the subject being worth of adoration in some way. And that way tends to be aethetic – reaching the physical ideal.”

“So you think you’re unattractive.”

“I  _know_ I’m –  _fuck,_ Enjolras. Are we really having this conversation right now?”

“Obviously. I think you know better than to keep questioning me.” He slows his thrusts so much he’s barely moving, proving his point.

“Why don’t you think you’re attractive, Grantaire? No, wait. You find me attractive. I know you do. It’s a proven trend that the two halves of a couple tend to be rated at around the same place on an objective beauty-scoring scale. And people don’t start sleeping together, let alone start a relationship, without finding their partner attractive. Surely there are other facets involved in the process, but at the base, it begins with lust.”

Grantaire groans, one hand gripping the sheets beneath him and one hand in Enjolras’ hair. “I’m just – I’ve never been – handsome. My nose is too big, I’m not skinny, my lips are uneve _nnn_ -”

He cuts himself off as Enjolras’ next particularly hard thrust hits his prostate, sending hot sparks up his spine and prompting him to lift off the bed with a gasp.

“You are the last person I’d expect to bow to socially-installed norms of beauty, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, and he’s panting now, a little less put-together as he takes Grantaire in hand and begins stroking him.

“It’s – it’s just not – it’s not that important,” Grantaire manages.

“Not important?” Enjolras asks, eyes blazing. “I’ll decide what’s important. And I think it’s important that the person I  _love_ thinks he’s as beautiful as I do.”

Grantaire moans quietly, eyes shut and face conflicted. He hasn’t stopped moving with Enjolras, though, and his hips are starting to lose their rhythm, so Enjolras leans even closer and nips at Grantaire’s ear.

“Are you beautiful, Grantaire?”

The man beneath him doesn’t answer, so he huffs and stops moving his hand, gripping Grantaire’s cock just that much tighter.

“Are you beautiful?”

“I – I’m…”

“Not an acceptable answer,” Enjolras informs him lowly before leaning over to grab the last item he’d retrieved from their drawer.

Before Grantaire can ask what he’s doing, the cock ring is already on. His eyes fly open wide and land on Enjolras, unbelieving.

“You  _bastard._ ”

“Behave,” Enjolras warns, now almost cruelly pumping his cock as the artist writhes through the waves of an orgasm that can’t be completed. “I’m going to convince you, Grantaire.”

“Fuck… you,” Grantaire grits, though his eyes betray him, subtly bright as they slide into familiar territory. The subject may be new but the actions are not, and his body betrays his cutting words, eagerly responding to Enjolras’ commanding touches.

“Yeah, not tonight,” Enjolras quips, quickening his thrusts. Grantaire keens and pushes into him, desperate for release even though it’s impossible to get. “I want you to listen to me, Grantaire.” His hips are stuttering as he stares into the blue of Grantaire’s eyes, forewarning the both of them that he’s just about over the edge. He quirks a crooked smile just this side of malicious. “But since this probably isn’t the best position to explain myself in, give me a second.”

Grantaire looks relieved for exactly half a second, and then Enjolras hooks both arms under his legs and pulls up, rearranging them so the angle is even deeper, and the friction even hotter. Grantaire swears wildly up at Enjolras’ grin, and he’s still swearing when Enjolras comes, pushing deep into him and sucking at his neck.

Grantaire is scratching no-doubt painful lines down his back at this point, and he can feel the press of tears behind his eyelids.

“Enjolras,  _please_.”

“I want to hear you say it first. Not just say it; admit it.”

“Say  _what_?”

“That you’re beautiful.” Enjolras pulls out now and draws completely away, not touching Grantaire at all. The artist makes a frustrated sound, hips twitching into the bed and off of it, aching for relief. “I want you to believe it.”

“ _I can’t._ ”

“You can, Grantaire. And you will. Or I won’t take that ring off.” And now he moves back up to cover Grantaire, pressing his lips to the other man’s jaw as he takes his cock in hand and begins to move his wrist just the way Grantaire likes. “You’re incredible. You’re talented and funny. And you’re gorgeous. I can’t get over the blue of your eyes. Even your flaws are endearing, and if they weren’t it wouldn’t matter because that’s not why I love you.”

Grantaire is sobbing, overwhelmed at the sensation entrapping him, both physical and emotional. His face is buried in Enjolras’ shoulder, eyes wet.

“I  _love_ you, Grantaire. You were beautiful before I ever realized that, though I have to take some credit, because now that we’re together you smile much more, and you’re so much brighter when you smile. It’s breathtaking.”

He moves his head away just enough to look Grantaire in the eyes.

“Do you believe me, Grantaire?”

There is a quiet moment of hesitation before Grantaire nods.

“You see my logic?” He slows the movements of his hand, frowning. “You really believe me; you’re not just saying that so I’ll let you come?”

Grantaire bites his lip. “I… no. I see where you’re coming from. I still… it might…  _jesus_ … it might take me a-awhile to accept it, I guess, but I – I understand.”

Enjolras grins fiercely. “ _Good._ ” He kisses Grantaire deeply. “I love you. Now sit up.”

Grantaire obeys him, too far out of it to even teasingly question Enjolras. He props himself up against their headboard and begs Enjolras with only his gaze to  _take care of him, for the love of everything good._

Smiling, Enjolras lowers himself between Grantaire’s legs and licks at the juncture of his leg and pelvis. Grantaire does that growling-sobbing thing again and runs a shaking hand through his hair.

_“Enjolras_.  _Please.”_

_“_ I want to hear you say it first,” comes the almost-whisper as Enjolras mouths at the tip of his straining erection. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I – I’m…”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sing-songs, kissing his shaft.

Grantaire groans. “I’m – I’m not – I’m….”

“Beautiful, _”_ Enjolras hisses, stroking at his entrance. “Beautiful,” he says, pressing his tongue to Grantaire’s sensitive perineum. “ _Beautiful,_ ” he growls, sucking at either testicle.

“I’m beautiful!” Grantaire bursts, hands unable to even grip Enjolras’ hair they’re trembling so badly. “I’m beautiful; I’m handsome; I’m a fucking unbelievable catch, oh my God Enjolras,  _please,_ for  _God’s sake._ ”

Enjolras springs up and removes the cock ring, glowing. He pours the rest of the lube in the bottle over his hand and all but attacks Grantaire, licking up his torso until he finds his mouth and wrapping his wet hand over the artist’s cock.

Grantaire comes almost immediately, and he’s practically screaming, tears dripping off his chin and hips slamming up into Enjolras’ hand.

His release spurts lengthily between them, and Enjolras breathes out lowly, milking every last drop of it out of his writhing artist.

Grantaire sinks back into the pillows when it’s finally over, boneless, and when Enjolras spreads his hand through the come on his abdomen and he doesn’t react, he looks up towards his face. Grantaire’s eyes are closed and his features are slack, and Enjolras’ own tighten in disbelief.

Did he-?

Grantaire stirs after only a moment, and Enjolras can’t hold back what could, objectively, be called a giggle.

Grantaire groans, eyes flicking over to see Enjolras’ delighted face, and he doesn’t quite seem to know what to feel, judging by his face. Eventually he settles on disgruntled and he pulls Enjolras closer to him, tugging the blond until he’s laying across his chest. Enjolras kisses the center of his sternum and snickers.

“You blacked out.”

Grantaire’s blushing, but he keeps Enjolras’ head pinned to his chest so he can’t see. “Well, what did you expect? You kept me  _on edge_ for fucking  _ever_. God, I hate you so much.”

“You don’t,” Enjolras says simply, rubbing his cheek over Grantaire’s chest. He stills after a moment, though, worrying at his lower lip. “I… Grantaire… I know what you said, but… Do you really mean it? It wasn’t just… too much?”

Grantaire sighs, playing with Enjolras’ hair. “It wasn’t too much. We have a safeword for a reason.”

Enjolras pushes himself up, forearms on Grantaire’s chest now as he meets his gaze. “But you really do understand, don’t you? I – I meant all of that, and I hope you did too. After all, I’d hate to have to do that all over again.”

Enjolras’ tone is mischievous, but his eyes are wary. Grantaire softens and cups the side of his face.

“I meant what I said. I’ve spent a lifetime in self-loathing, Enjolras, and you aren’t going to solve it in one night, but… you’ve already helped.”

Enjolras smiles. He isn’t satisfied and he won’t be until Grantaire is as confident as Enjolras himself (okay, well… maybe a  _little_ less, because they don’t need two inflated egos), but for now, he’s happy, and he’s made Grantaire happy, and that really was the point.

He kisses him, and decides that’s enough for tonight.


End file.
